


Chrysanthemum

by junmyeon



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junmyeon/pseuds/junmyeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm so sorry I don't remember what this fic is about. I think WYF was a general and Suho was some sort of captive though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chrysanthemum

The battle was over and he had been left behind. The weight of bodies, whether they be of men slain by his own army or of his own comrades, pressed down upon him and he felt as he were sinking further and further into the blood-soaked dirt with each passing second. The pain that had been almost been crippling to him in the earlier hours of morning had long subsided to a dull, aching throb on his inner thigh, serving as a constant reminder of the battle that had ended. Slowly he raised his head and his fingers traced the characters etched in a beautiful calligraphy on the side of his sword, _Suho,_ and he followed the characters down with the point of his finger, attempting to scrape off the filth covering half-hidden words below his name in a feeble attempt to ward away sleep and force his eyes open.. A slip of the finger against the blade of the sword would be an unpleasant consequence.  
  
During what must have been among his last few attempts to stop his eyes closing and letting sleep take him away from his harsh reality, the approaching sound of hooves beating steadily upon the ground in perfect formation jolted his eyes wide open and quickened his pulse. Struggling to turn his body to catch a glimpse of the approaching men, he was a little too eager and moved a little too fast, feeling the consequences as the dull throbbing in his thigh reignited into a flaring pain. The adrenaline that had propelled him through battle had been fully spent and with a pained gasp and tears forming in his eyes, he fell back to the ground.  
  
Trapped helpless beneath the corpses of many men, he could only pray to the Gods that the men were those of his own army. It would have been a cruel joke to allow him to survive the battle with only minor injuries, only live out long enough to lose his life hours after the battle at the single slash of a sword. He was no hot-blooded soldier with pride higher than the heavens but even to him, a death in the midst battle was preferable to one as a man with neither a blade nor a shield to hold up to protect himself. It would have been shameful if any one person saw him that way.  
  
He waited until he could count the steady beats upon the damped ground and considered the possibilities carefully. There seemed to be only three horses- not a large enough party to search for survivors or to protect themselves if the enemy had such a party of their own men out, but elite enough to flee quickly if they encountered trouble. They were likely to be highly ranked men to have authorization to leave the main company and venture out, and confident enough in their own ability not bring more men. The men seemed to split up, putting distance between them, as if they were searching for something.  
  
Whispering quietly another prayer to the deities above, he hoped against hope that the three approaching men were one of his own and promised himself and the Gods that he would be a better son, a better soldier, and a better man if he were allowed to return home. The horses seemed only a few footsteps away and his heart dropped when he heard their riders speak. The language was garbled to his tired mind and he had not the energy to decipher the words. His jaw clenched and he willed back the tears that had formed minutes ago, determined to not let them fall. He would not let the twelve hours in which he fought for his life be in vain.  
  
A sudden gust of wind blew across the stillness, carrying the stench of death, of flesh in its first stages of decay across the field. Suho was not fast enough and while pulling in a breath to hold, and inhaled the taste of rotting flesh. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth only a moment later as he bit down hard on his tongue in an attempt to prevent any noise from escaping between his bloodied lips.  
  
His efforts yielded no results as a half-smothered cough escaped. It may as well have been a war horn in the silence. One of the men gave a yell, and Suho registered somewhere that he was calling the others over and he gave up halfway through the prayer, closing his eyes and letting his body fall completely limp. He heard the slightly dulled thud of two feet as the man dismounted and each step taken towards him resounded within his ears. Each step grew louder and his heart beat faster. He would rather be left for dead and die alone than be killed in cold blood by the enemy. Shame would be the last thought on his mind if he were to lose his life without any identity, executed out of mercy.  
  
Instead of the blade he expected, he felt a pair of arms hoist him up by the shoulders and the deadweight of men lifted from his waist and legs. He was lifted to almost a sitting position, and then placed against a wall of men. Armour dug into his back but he refused to move, praying that his own covered the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed in and out. He felt blood seep into the cloth he wore beneath his armour and he could feel his entire leg completely soaked in his own blood- the move had disturbed the wound and the pain and blood had returned. He wondered if he was forming a pool of blood on the ground below him but he did not dare open his eyes to see. The words they exchanged were lost on him apart from the single title of 將軍 (general). He did not strain to hear and the meanings were lost on him. He felt himself being shaken but forced himself not to tense, to simply play dead.  
  
"I can see you breathe, soldier. I can see your eyelashes flutter as you attempt to keep your eyes closed."  
  
The voice was deep and masculine, one of authority, if only slightly undermined by his accent when he spoke in the common tongue of men. Suho did not react and forced his mind blank and body still. There was silence for a long moment before he heard another man dismount and a hand roughly grip on his chin only a moment after, forcing his face up. But still, he kept his eyes closed.  
  
"Look at me."  
  
Suho remained silent and a moment later when it was obvious that he would not open his eyes, he felt the dagger imbedded in his thigh twist slightly. He let out a gasp of pain and his eyes flew open. The dagger moved again and was then pulled out, none too gently. The man who had spoken let out a light, slightly arrogant laugh. When Suho looked at him, he saw that the dagger was not in his hands. A moment later, he must have signalled to the comrade who had pulled out the dagger as Suho felt his wound being bound tightly and he resisted the urge to whimper at the growing pain. He would not give in so easily.  
  
But he did not show emotion save the slight flicker of surprise which had passed through his eyes at seeing their commander. His voice gave the impression of an older man, he had expected a bearded man, possibly around forty years of age but was instead met with one at least ten years younger. Suho's gaze was defiant and not without pride as he stared up at the other man’s face. The enemy commander crouched in front of him, his hand still holding up Suho's face so they were eye to eye with one another, and neither of their eyes flickered away from the other.  
  
"Your name, soldier?"  
  
Still, Suho remained silent, considering his options carefully. He had not yet spoken and he did not intend on revealing his name. The hand on his chin tightened and he felt fingers press into the side of his cheeks.  
  
"I asked your name." he repeated, his tone tinged with annoyance.  
  
The soldier behind Suho holding him mumbled something in their own tongue and Suho supposed he might have been questioning how a man who had his jaw pressed together was to talk because the hand loosened its grip and dropped down. The man who he thought to be a general remained crouching, keeping the eye contact.  
  
"저의 이름은준면입니다 (joonmyun, that is my name)," he replied, but as if to purposely spite them by replying in his own native tongue. He was well versed in the common tongue but he could not resist the last small act of rebellion, and even in his circumstances, he revelled in the annoyance that showed through the other man's eyes as he attempted to decipher his words. He did not think that the other man would not figure it out eventually- they knew bits and pieces of the tongues of neighbouring nations- but it was amusing to see him try.  
  
"Do you not speak the common tongue, Joonmyun?" the reply came after a moment, his tongue stumbling slightly over the foreign name. If it had been any other foreigner and he had been in any other situation, Suho would have applauded the effort in the pronunciation. He raised his eyebrows at the other and a ghost of a smile traced his lips.  
  
"You asked for my name. My name belongs to my native tongue so it is only fitting I answer you so," he replied, switching smoothly into the common tongue. Suho wondered if the pain and sun had made him delirious and stupid; men paid for insolence with blood on the battlefield. His impertinent answers and disrespectful attitude would guarantee his death, if it had not been decided already.  
  
To his surprise, the leader let out a snort of laughter and stood up; Suho noticed that the other man would have towered over him even if they were both standing. More meaningless syllables were exchanged between the men as discussion took place with the occasional gesture in his direction. They were obviously discussing what to do with him. Suho watched in silence from his sitting position as the discussion slowly escalated into an argument. A single order, simple yet commanding ended the discussion. Suho could hear it in his voice, the way he wielded authority. The general had power and knew how to use it.  
  
He felt himself being hoisted up above the group then draped over a horse, his hands bound behind his back. His face burned in shame but he did not struggle. He was alive, and he would stay alive for the time being. Chances of escape would come later; he would rest as much as he could before then. Suho know that they would not kill him- they would not waste so much effort on a man condemned to die.  
  
↭  
  
When he opened his eyes, he was unbound and lying on a soft pallet on the floor of a tent. His eyes flickered around and from what he could see of his surroundings, they were undoubtedly foreign, yet he felt as if he had been there before. He knew the dust, the tent, the dull colours and the attempt to keep as little furniture as possible. He was altogether too familiar with the atmosphere in an army camp. His current range of vision only extending as to let him be able to catch a glimpse of a low lying military bed which was really just a mattress on the floor, he shifted slightly to see more of his surroundings. Immediately, the sound of a chair scraping back against the ground could be heard and Suho was just able to scramble up into a half crouching position with his legs beneath him before his view was blocked by a tall figure. He was in the general’s tent.  
There was silence for a minute, and then it stretched onto two, then three. Suho, not knowing what to say kept silent and the other simply kept his eyes focused down on the smaller man.

Finally, when the silence broke, "我叫吳凡 (my name is wufan)” he said, his words a mocking echo of Suho's own introduction.

Suho was blunt and direct. He deciphered the words without much difficulty and the name meant nothing to him.

"Why am I here?" he asked, refusing to reply in Wufan's native tongue, even if he had crossed the border and into their nation.  
His defiance seemed to have only amused Wufan and as if just to humour him, he copied Suho and replied in the common tongue.

"I will not kill a man who has not been condemned to die in cold blood. You were injured and lying helpless. I could not leave an enemy soldier alive but neither could I execute him for nothing more than the crime of being born on the other side of the border." he said bluntly, his voice neither judging nor with any true sense of superiority.

Suho blinked once, then again, at a loss for words.

Wufan raised a single brow. "You are not to step outside this tent alone. If you leave this tent without me, the men outside will kill you. This tent is near the centre of camp. You will not make it out alive."

Showing no noticeable reaction, Suho had already started to form plans for escape. His thoughts were broken when the other spoke again.

"你幾歲 (how old are you)?"  
Suho paused for a split-second before answering, debating a lie but then answered with the truth. "스물한 (twenty one)."

"I am six years your senior," Wufan simply stated the fact. "If you respect me for nothing else, at least show the respect due to one elder than you."

Making a noise somewhere between a noncommittal grunt and a snort, Suho let a pained gasp only a moment later as he felt a sharp shoot across his face. The other man had crouched down to backhand him across his left cheek.

Raising his head up again, Suho willed the tears back and met the glare of the other with an equally intense look. They both waited for the other to break the silence but neither did, until-

“General!” The voice came from outside the tent and was spoken with some degree of urgency.

With another cold glare at Suho, the man, the general named Wufan, turned his back and exited the tent without another word or glance back.

Suho wondered if anyone in the army knew that their general was keeping an enemy soldier in his tent before he started trying to recall everything he had ever heard about the enemy’s commanding officers and generals. He was beginning to regret not paying enough attention back when he had the access to all the knowledge that he needed now. A small frown touched upon his face as he could not match the name ‘Wufan’ to any general he had heard of.

↭

They were retreating to the east: that much he could be sure of. Between snippets of conversation that came through the thin tent walls and general direction of the sun whenever he was allowed out for a few hours so the tent could be packed and moved, Suho realized that this faction of the army could very well be returning to the capital. It would be good news to them but very bad news to him. The further away from the border he was, the smaller the chance of escape and successfully finding his own people were. It had been a week since his capture and his thigh had almost fully healed (courtesy to a healer named Jongdae- at first Suho had snarled a single word of “traitor” at him but later found out that he had been part of the 5th battlement and had been captured after defeat and kept as a prisoner of war after it was found out that he was a medic), and the march was about to start again.

And as he expected, two days later the camp were fully packed and dismantled with everything loaded onto horse-drawn wagons. Suho was finally allowed out of the tent for a period longer than a couple of hours. Unsurprisingly, he would be walking next to General Wufan and was told by him to ‘keep quiet’, if he ‘knew what was good for himself’. He had no intentions of disobeying. Sacrificing a small piece of pride was a small price to pay for his life.

It was about three hours after they had started walking and Suho has already completely lost interest in his surroundings, the scenery did not seemed to change and it was not exceptionally beautiful either. He started counting each step he had taken, counting the steps away from home. He had reached step four thousand and five when he heard his name being called out from somewhere above him.

He stumbled and lost count.

“On the other side of the border, does it look the same?”  
Suho was able to spare a few moments to glance up at the other man’s face before quickly lowering his eyes back to the ground in front of him. He did not want to look foolish by tripping over the small rocks that littered the dusty surface.

Keeping his surprise hidden, he made sure that the general really was talking to him, there was no one within earshot but it just seemed so unlikely. He paused for a few seconds to think before answering- a diplomatic answer just as he had been trained.  
“The border is but a man-drawn line. It is the same on either side, it is only when you venture further into my nation that you will see the differences.”

Suho bit back the unnecessary addition that Wufan would never be able to venture past the border further enough to see anything worth seeing without destroying all that was beautiful. He refused to think of the possibility that he would not be able to return back either, not until the war was over and one side had fallen. Not even knowing if he would be able to outlive with war with his current circumstances, he willed himself not to think too far ahead, and only of the present situation.

“I have never been past the borders of this nation. Describe your home to me.”  
The voice of the general seemed as emotionless as ever but Suho thought he could hear a change in it, however small before banishing it as a figment of his imagination.

“My home,” he murmured, keeping his voice steady and just loud enough to be heard, “it is a beautiful place. I do not call the city my home, although I visited it often and spent the later part of my childhood years there in the capital.”

Wufan seemed to think over his words before replying, and when he did, his tone did seem to change from the emotionless orders to something else. The voice that spoke to him from above, from atop his stallion seemed to be tinged with mild curiosity and if ears did not deceive him, a hint of what sounded like pity.  
“Tell about the place you call home. You sound rather fond of it.”

Surprised that the general would rather hear about the place he called home (knowledge, however basic, of the cities would have been a much more advantageous and logical thing to ask for in a time of war), Suho had to take a moment to focus himself to pull up images from his childhood. Although he dared not close his eyes, the lush green and small rushing streams presented themselves to him as clear as they were the day he had left.

“I lived in the country for the better half of my childhood; it was a rather quiet and beautiful place. I played in the mud rice fields and washed myself after in running streams nearby. It was a small town; everyone within the town knew each other, and more often than not good neighbours and friends. Among the village boys, I have many frie-”

His voice broke. Had many friends.

Casualties happened in a war and Suho had no idea how many of those boys he had been so close to in his younger days were still back in the village. Recruitment for war struck hard in a small nation such as theirs and he could only pray that at least some of those boys were still alive. Perhaps luck would be on their side and some of them would be able to survive the war to meet again and laugh together next to the rice fields.

Wufan did not snap at him or press on when Suho did not finish the sentence, letting the silence stretch. He seemed to understand. Suho wondered if past sharp unforgiving features and the constantly stern expression, that the general had lost close friends in the war. None of the men talked to the general unless it was a report that had to be made, or an issue that had to be dealt with. He did not seem to have any friends with him, only subordinates.

Save for the steady clatter of hooves upon dusty ground and tired groans and murmurs from foot soldiers following behind, a steady silence fell upon the two men once more and Wufan did not attempt to break it a second time.  
  
↭  
  
"Joonmyun,"  
  
The second time Wufan really spoke to Suho was on the fifth day of the march. After their first conversation which may have struck a little too close to home, Wufan had made no attempt to start another conversation and Suho had resorted to counting his steps again. He was getting better at it. He would be able to reach around six thousand and five hundred steps before stumbling or becoming otherwise distracted and losing count.  
  
"How do you live? Knowing that you are on the wrong side of the border and walking further away with every step you count."  
  
He asked the question with his tone softer than usual, but the traces of a command were still there. It was obvious that he expected an answer, and a well reasoned one. Soldiers were known to take their own lives in favour of living as a prisoner. Pride and honour demanded a high price. Suho almost missed a step, pondering his reply. He had not truly thought of why he still wanted to live despite all that had happened to him in the past few days, he was only focused on each step he took forward and would be too exhausted to consider any other thoughts but sleep in the few hours of rest they permitted each night.  
  
"I am alive." he replied, keeping his voice strong. "Being alive, surviving is a luxury that not many have in a time of war. I do not think of anything else, only that I am still living and that I shall continue to live for ones that I love, whether they are waiting for me return or in memory of them."  
  
Suho paused for a moment, his eyes flickering up and through those barely-there eyelashes; he saw the general was looking down at him too from above on his black warhorse. Their eyes met for only the shortest moment before that split second intimacy was broken.  
  
Wufan's voice did not match his eyes, his tone much more severe than his gaze. Somehow, through a garbled tongue and commanding orders, his voice held no emotion for Suho. His dark eyes however, seemed to hold endless depths of secrets and broken memories of war. Suho dared not look into them as the reply came.  
  
"I do not understand. Would it not be better to die an honourable death in battle than to be lead along like a puppet on a stick by your enemy?"  
  
Perhaps Wufan had never experienced the loss of a friend on the battlefield, but no- he must have gone through many and to have been to one to survive to rise up through the ranks and come out on the top. Or he could be one of those men, those who had lost one too many friends or one too dear.  
  
"Would a death, however honourable, exceed the hope of going back home?”  
His voice came soft and questioning, almost hidden by the sounds of the marching army.  
  
“When honour is all you live for, how can you think of returning home, unless you are returning with the victorious army?”  
Hardened by war and with no emotions to speak of and only a blind patriotism like so many of his own generals, Suho knew that there was no point of arguing with the other man. He had tried talking about personal lives with some men while on the march from his own capital city to the no man’s land at the border where the battles were being fought but those men, focused solely on war, had no answers for him.  
  
There was a pause, and then he heard something that almost sounded like a... _sigh_ from above him where the general was sitting. Suho did not answer the question; he had no answer other than the one he had already given.  
  
The march continued and Suho started to amuse himself by trying to keep his steps in time with the army behind him whilst keeping count at the same time.  
  
He gave up after two days and filled his mind with thoughts of his brother.  
  
↭  
  
“寧為玉碎 (would rather be a piece of broken jade)”  
  
His voice broke the awkward silence that had been hung between them for five days.  
“Do you understand what it means?”  
  
It was late in the day and the sun had almost disappeared behind the land to their west.  
  
Suho's knowledge of their language and education was not extensive to the point which he would be able to understand with sayings and formal phrases. His teacher in the language had not been a nobleman of high standing, but rather a traveller skilled in the tongues of surrounding nations. His education in languages covered only warfare and basic conversations. Suho had been close with his teacher despite meeting constant disapproval at their friendship he winced at the thought of how his friend would be treated now back in the capital. He had been appointed as a royal translator after Suho’s departure but that did little to ease him, conservatives in court looked down upon anyone who lacked noble blood flowing within their veins.  
  
"My knowledge of your language is only basic. I do not understand that phrase." he replied, still trying to decipher the words inside his head. He made out something about _shattering jade_ and knew immediately that jade was a valuable stone.  
  
"It is a shortened version of a longer phrase we are all taught," Wufan continued in his lightly accented way of speaking the common tongue, "in its originality it is that I would rather be a piece of broken jade than an unbroken piece of pottery."  
  
Suho inhaled deeply, he knew of the phrase altogether too well. It was a law among men. "I know of what you speak of." he started, voice soft but not without confidence. "Jade is priceless and valuable while pottery is worthless and used as a tool by common people. You wish to tell me that you would rather be shattered jade, broken yet with honour than become like pottery, common and without honour, but whole."  
  
Silence stretched between the two, only broken occasionally by a yell in the distance. The soldiers were conversing while setting up camp for the night. Suho could feel their spirits rising with each weary step they took forward. Each step they took brought them one step closer to home while each step Suho took propelled him further away from home, from the chance of escape and further into the unknown. He did not even know what would happen to him after they reached the capital. Perhaps sold off as a slave or made to work somewhere- he doubted they’d drag him along for so long just to kill him in the end.  
  
A chuckle filled the air and Suho turned his head to face Wufan. The taller man was amused and held the gaze with lightened eyes.  
“You know more than I expect you too, although you are young, you do not seem ignorant nor do you seem uneducated. I feel that there is another reason why you spoke though, please, continue. You interest me.”  
  
Keeping eye contact with the man on the other side of the pile of sticks they planned to start a fire with later, Suho only had to think for a moment before replying.  
“I believe that you see yourself as a piece of broken jade, and I as the unbroken pottery. You are held in high regard in your nation, yet you are broken on the inside. I am common as the pottery used by all men, and my position is lower than the dirt we stand on, but I am not yet broken. I continue to hope. As you would want to die with honour and to be remembered, I can forgo the honour and the name if I can live longer in the life I wish to lead for myself, with those I care about.”  
  
Wufan was thoughtful as he considered the words of the younger man. He did not seemed angered by the implication that he somehow knew he was broken inside, broken as a person, but instead seemed to consider the possibility.  
Finally another laugh and, “You are interesting for one so young Joonmyun. Perhaps your words do have truth hidden deep within them.”  
  
↭  
  
It was predicted that they would reach the capital by sunset the next day and the men were eager to return home and see their families. Suho had learnt through the excited chatter and laughs of the men that they were the second division and were the second lot men that had been recruited directly from the capital and were one of the first to join the war. They were the ones that had little or no experience in battle and counted themselves lucky to still be alive.  
  
Something stirred inside of him at the mention of the second division of their army but Suho brushed it aside for the time being after he could not place it. He was more concerned about what would happen to him after the march ended and the men dispersed to their own homes. The general (“You may call me Wufan if you wish. You are not a part of this army nor this nation and I will not ask you to bend your pride and address me by my title when there is no need.” he had said, but the transition from thinking of him as the general of an enemy nation to one intimate enough to call by given name was a difficult task that Suho himself was unsure he wanted to do) had made small talk with Suho everyday as they travelled since he had said the younger man interested him and seemed to continue to be intrigued by him.  
  
"Wufan?"  
It would be the first time Suho attempted to start the conversation. Insecurities washed over him in the few seconds before the general looked over with a slightly amused expression- Suho could only hope that his pronunciation of the name was not too foreign sounding. He waited for a response from the voice he had began to look forward to, slightly accented but deep and layered.  
  
"Is there something you would like to add to the riddle you have given me? I have not yet solved it."  
Suho had almost forgotten about the riddles they had been exchanging throughout the day while travelling. They would be able to interact and exchange small talk and ideas without the constant chatter and pressure of what to say next. Suho had given a riddle from his childhood and Wufan had yet to work it out.  
  
"You still have not found the answer? This is one of my most loved riddles from my childhood. You could admit defeat and grant me one wish."  
  
A snort from the other side of the fire could be heard. Wufan shook his head and threw a few sticks into the burning flames.  
"I will not give up; I'll find the answer eventually and win this game. I do not give up easily."  
  
Suho expected nothing less but he paused for a moment before replying.  
"What if you do not find the answer before nightfall tomorrow?"  
  
The crackling of flames suddenly seemed to increase tenfold in volume as the underlying question in his words was taken in and considered.  
  
After a few minutes of what must have been silent deliberation on Wufan's part; "Come inside, I have letters and reports to finish writing and I do not trust your safety while out here alone."  
  
They both knew that news that the general was keeping an enemy soldier as a "pet" had spread throughout the camp. A messenger had run into the tent they shared with an urgent message while Suho spoke in his native tongue. Not all the soldiers found it amusing and only their respect for the general kept their mouths shut and fear of punishment kept the slander at bay.  
  
Ducking his head to enter the flap, he waited until Suho entered after him and sat on his pallet in his corner of the tent before closing the tent and collecting papers from beside his bed. Wufan was anything but stupid, Suho had learnt. He kept his weapons on him all the time and anything that may contain useful information next to his mattress. He was a light sleeper and would scatter dried leaves and small branches meant for the campfires on the ground between the space where the two men lay and secured the tent entrance securely each night. Chances of a successful escape were near impossible and they both knew that Suho valued his life too much to risk it.  
  
He took a seat at the small desk and began to write. It took another two hours of silence before Suho spoke again.  
"You have not answered my question"  
  
He stood and took slow careful steps over and on top of the dried and crackling leaves to stand a step away from the back of the chair.  
  
Wufan stood and turned to face him.  
"You interest me."  
Then Suho felt a pair of lips sweep against his forehead and a pair of hands turning his body towards the mattress.  
"Sleep there tonight. Rest well. You will need to be alert when the sun rises again."  
  
Suho hesitated and as if he could read thoughts, Wufan spoke again.  
"I will be finishing reports and letters until morning. Do not believe all of what you hear the men say."  
  
The mattress was softer than anything he'd lain in since his capture and it only took a few moments before he subsided to a deep, peaceful sleep.  
  
↭  
  
The sun rose, and along with it, the spirits of over three thousand men.  
  
When Suho opened his eyes, it was to the light streaming in through the open tent and excited chatter of men as they packed up their tents and belongings for the last time for what they hoped would be at least another few years.  
  
For them, the war was over and they were returning home. Suho envied them. Between the softly spoken conversations, he often thought of his own home. Somehow, in the hundreds of thousands of steps he took away from the border, the capital of his own nation had somehow become home to him too. He wondered where his own army would be and if news of his disappearance (they would not be able to classify it as a death, they would never be able to find a body no matter how hard they tried), had reached the capital. Surely his first brother would have heard- he was with the first division of the army further along the borderline and news travelled fast between them.  
  
They began the march for the final time and after roughly five thousand nine hundred and fifty steps, a speck of black, the silhouette of the great city could be seen. Suho stumbled at how large the city was even from the distance and lost count.  
  
They reached the city about five hours before the sun would set. The walls around the city were amazing and the main gates were large enough to let all the men march in at once in their formation.  
  
"Take my reins and keep your head down. Do not look up under any circumstances."  
  
They were at the front of the army and Suho silently took the well worn reins in his hands and lowered his eyes to the ground. He didn't need to see to know that the gates were slowly being opened. He didn't need to see to know that both the men behind him and the people on the other side of the gate were almost buzzing with anticipation. He heard a few scattered cheers coming from behind the half opened gates, growing stronger and stronger until it seemed as if every citizen of the city had gathered on the other side of the gate to welcome their people home.  
  
Suho took a peek upwards just in time to see the gates swing fully open and there was a moment of silence as the people inside seemed to soak in the images of returning soldiers before them. He looked back down as the cheering started again and gripped the reins just a tad tighter.  
  
Wufan nudged the horse forward and Suho took numb steps alongside it without complaint. They passed the gate and he was inside the heart of his enemy. Their audience scattered to make way and had already started looking for their loves ones and friends in the crowd of identically dressed men behind him.  
  
The crowd fell silent after a few moments. Wufan stopped his horse and the sound of the gate being dragged back along the ground could be heard. They were all in and they were staying inside the city walls.  
“我們回來了 (we are home)”  
His voice came strong and confident, cutting through the silence. It was decisive enough to convey his power, but tinged with just enough relief to make the listeners believe that he really was glad to have come back. Wufan spoke and carried himself like a leader, and it seemed to come naturally for him.

Then he smiled. And the people surged forward, mixing themselves with the soldiers, finding the ones dear to them and showering them with gifts and food. A few women brushed past Suho to murmur soft words of thanks and present gifts of their home made delicacies or handmade crafts that must have taken hours of preparation.

They were thankful to him, but of course they would be. He was the general who took their loved ones out to war and brought most of them home still alive save for a few wounds and scratches. They felt gratitude towards him for keeping their men safe, for keeping the men of their city safe.

But he could already start to hear the anguished sobs and cries of the families and lovers of those who did not make it back and had perished on the battlefield. Suho wondered if the people of his country would shed tears over his ‘death’ as they did for his second brother. He wondered if they would, even amidst the horror of war, go into mourning for him as they did for his elder brother. Suho remembered the tears of his mother and the black lace she crafted for each member of his family, how his first brother returned to the capital only for three days to receive his armband of black lace before riding back out to the first division their army which he commanded.  
  
Standing silent, head facing the ground, he didn’t know how long he stood there for. The crowd moved around him and he let them. He felt a tap on his shoulder and he looked up. Wufan wasn’t looking at him but he spoke while looking straight ahead.  
“We can leave now.”  
  
They brushed through the crowd, through the laughter and tears being shed. The moment the sounds of the people could no longer be heard, Suho looked up and Wufan dismounted. Through the corner of his eye, Suho caught a glimpse of the other silently loosening the mouthpiece of his horse and lightly patting the mighty stallion. He waited for the next set of instructions.  
  
That’s all he could do. Wait. If he wanted to live, then he would stay silent and obedient. They started to walk again, Suho on the left side and Wufan on the right of the horse and they were silent. Suho still held the reins and Wufan had his hand resting on the back of the horse, guiding it along.  
  
The houses along both sides of the road were becoming grander and larger the further they walked in. What were no more than wooden huts became well made homes and then eventually became crafted pieces of art, decorated with sculptures and marble. There was another wall, and they entered through a door to the side after Wufan said something Suho wasn’t able to catch to the guards and they were let in. The guards still shot suspicious looks towards Suho. He didn’t blame them in the least.  
  
Countless beautiful flowers, rows upon rows of living gold. He had heard stories of their capital and of the wonders it contained but never really believed them. No one really had time to consider the possibility that the nation invading them had a capital and imperial grounds beautiful beyond words. They were standing on a platform overlooking the imperial city; beyond the golden sea were rows upon rows of beautifully carved roofs standing elegantly, a path leading through them to the palace. Upon jaded ground and marble bases, the imperial palace took Suho's breath away for at least a few seconds before he remembered to breathe again. Never had he expected the finely carved wood and stone to be able to decorate a building in such a way, and for so many bright colors, the reds, golds, and even specks of blue and green to blend together in such a way that was not excessive, but just right. The imperial residence was beautiful, and only a patriotic, blinded fool would deny that.  
They took the stairs down and stepped to the side of the golden fields, taking a small path around the side leading to the main building. Wufan stopped at a smaller building and led his horse inside. They were only one building apart from the main palace and Suho was filled with apprehension and he had to force his hands to stay steady on the reins he held. He did not want to draw attention to himself. He entered through the plain black door after Wufan and realized that it was a stable for the horses.  
“Stay here. I’ll send someone for you.”  
  
His voice was stern and without emotion once more and Suho noticed that Wufan was taking deep breaths, as if preparing himself for something.  
Wufan slipped out and the door closed. Suho heard the sounds of wood being pushed against each other and a click of metal against metal. He knew that he couldn’t do anything but stay there until someone came for him.  
  
↭  
Absentmindedly, he pieced shapes and pictures together on the floor of the stable with pieces of dried grass and hay he found. He started with tracing out the shape of a horse on the ground, then overlaying it with stiffened grass, then drawing out the shape of another, and another. Eventually, he drew men and women and marketplaces and homes. He lost count of the number he drew then brushed away with a sweep of his hand. He stopped when light started to fade from the high windows and the stables began to dim.  
  
The shuffling of wood and a dull click of metal sounded on the other side of the door again after a while and Suho stood up quickly, sweeping over the remains of his creations, reducing them to a pile of dusty and dried grass. The door opened and he took an instinctive step backwards. The man who stepped through the door was unfamiliar to him, his features were longer and less angular than the general’s but he unmistakably belonged to the same nation of people.  
“Don’t try to escape. I am armed.”  
  
When the man spoke in the common tongue, it was accented quite heavily. It was the accent of someone who had only been briefly taught the language in theory, but never quite had to use it for communications. Suho could guess that he spent either most of his time in the castle, dealing with more domestic matters, or came from a lower classed family and was not educated from a young age.  
  
The accented man gestured to the door and took a step in and to the side. He wanted Suho to go through the door first and then follow behind to prevent an attack from the back. He was a careful man. It was obvious that he knew at least something about keeping himself alive and prisoners under control. Perhaps an imperial guard, Suho thought- they were highly valued for their discretion and ability to keep their secrets locked away.  
  
Carefully taking a step forward, then another, Suho walked past the slightly taller man, keeping him in sight and listening carefully for any sudden movements. He would not resist and go quietly unless he saw signs that his life would be in danger. The sense of a man sent to kill you is one that is learnt only by experience and one that Suho knew altogether too well. He passed the man and felt a wave of cool air hit him. He listened intently. His back was turned and this would be the time in which he would be the most vulnerable.  
The moment passed and the man was next to Suho, keeping an eye on him.  
“I was instructed to not draw attention so I will not bind you. If you try to escape I will not hesitate to drive a dagger between your ribs or into your back. Whichever one is easiest for me.”  
  
His words were stiff and formal- practised even.  
“I understand.”  
  
Suho was confident in his tone, but not overly so. He had his pride but he also had his wish to stay alive. He knew that if he angered this man, he could easily wind up dead and the man could easily lie and say that he had tried to escape. And dead men are unable to defend themselves against lies told about them.  
  
Silently, he was lead up to the imperial residence and in through a side door (probably a servant’s entrance) and through a maze of corridors. Suho felt that they were purposely taking a longer than necessary path to their destination, wherever it might be, both to avoid any main hallways where they might be seen and to confuse him in case he ever decided that he wanted to escape. It was a good plan and the man leading him was obviously smart as well as important enough to be trusted with taking an enemy soldier into the palace.  
They stopped in front of a plain wooden door. It seemed to be the only entrance to a room in that corridor- they hadn’t passed any other door since turning the corner for what have been over the hundredth time and glancing further down the corridor, no other door could be seen. The door opened, the man must have taken the time Suho glanced down the corridor to unlock it if it had been locked. He gestured for Suho to go in first.  
“Why?”  
  
He stood his ground, facing the taller man and refusing to go in. He had heard stories about men being locked inside rooms until they starved to death and their bodies only cleaned out after. It was a cruel execution and he had no intentions of dying that way if he had to die at all.  
“Are you going to wait until I starve to death?”  
  
The other man stared, as if he thought that his knowledge of the common tongue had failed him and he had heard wrong.  
“No. You will wait in there for a while until the General Wu has time to deal with you.”  
  
His words were slightly jumbled and he seemed unsure of his own sentence. Suho wasn’t sure whether it was from his obvious unfamiliarity with the language or if he was unskilled in telling lies.  
“How do I know that?”  
Questioning further, he could only pray that he wasn’t pushing his lucky as he met the eyes of the other man.  
  
The other man stared again, almost disbelieving. He stood like that for a moment or so, then roughly grabbed Suho by the forearm and dragged him into the room without giving time for any reaction. The door slammed, the lock clicked and they were both inside.  
Suho recovered and regained his attention just in time to see the other man slip a key through the door and onto the other side. The man turned around to look at him with a ghost of a smile tinting his lips.  
  
“General Wu told me that you were intelligent. He will be here in the morning. My name is Yixing, if he does not hear my voice in the morning when he comes by, he will leave you in here until you meet that death you feared so much.”  
  
“Wha-”  
  
Finally nodding to show his understanding of the clumsily put together sentence, Suho took his time to look around the room. There were two thin mattresses and a lamp already illuminating the room between them. Forcing back an amused smile, he walked towards the mattress on the far side of the room. The general had gotten to know him so well that he had prepared for this and had warned Yixing, whoever he was, about him.  
  
He lay on the mattress and through the corner of his eye, he saw Yixing do the same.  
He kept his eyes open until the lamp burned out. Sleep came hours later.  
  
↭  
Morning came altogether too soon. When Suho woke, Yixing was already awake and sitting at the side of his mattress, eating a roll of bread. Suho sat up and Yixing tensed for a moment before relaxing again and leant forward to push a large bowl of bread rolls towards Suho. He only hesitated for a second before reaching out slowly and taking one. He had not eaten the night before and although he had survived longer without food, he wanted to eat.  
Raising the bread to his lips, he took a bite and tasted the slightly savoury flavouring and almost sighed. The war had been going on too long and it was impossible to get real bread out with the army. A wave of homesickness swept through him and he tried not to choke as he swallowed. The texture against his throat felt the same.  
  
He bit back the tears that threatened to form. He was glad for the sound of footsteps that they both heard coming from outside, drawing closer and closer with each steady step.  
They stopped outside the door and they heard shuffling and then what seemed to be the key being picked up off the floor.  
“Yixing?”  
  
The familiar voice of Wufan came through the door. He was checking to see if Suho and his guard were both still alive.  
“我沒事 (I’m fine)”  
Yixing replied loudly, although somewhat thickly. His mouth seemed to be still full of bread and he struggled to swallow as the key was inserted into the lock and jumped to his feet when the door opened. Suho swallowed the rest of his piece and awkwardly stood up too.  
The door opened and Wufan seemed to be even taller than Suho remembered. He smiled and Suho wondered if it was the same man he had met on the march. Yixing muttered something that Suho couldn’t quite catch and Wufan scolded him for speaking in their own language in the presence of someone who didn’t understand well. Yixing glared but obeyed with an accented ‘yes sir’ in the common tongue.  
  
With the clean clothes and probably a very long wash to scrape off the dirt that had accumulated over his skin and hair, Wufan looked younger than his twenty eight years (he had looked much older before) and less like a high ranking general and more like a proud nobleman in court.  
  
Suho was suddenly all too aware that he was still covered in the dirt and dust from his journey to this city and that his clothes were probably still stained with blood from the battle. He had never changed them since his capture and they didn’t stand out when he was among the other soldiers. They had all fought in the same battle, even if they were on opposite sides of the battlefield.  
  
Looking towards Yixing with an amused expression and raised brows, Wufan spoke to him. “You didn’t tell him about the washroom?”  
Yixing had the decency to look sheepish as he shook his head. He walked over to the wall, removed a piece of the polished wood and shifted it to the side easily, revealing a small room inside.  
“We have prepared the water in the bath but it may take a while to heat. I will light it now. You will only have to tip this barrel to the side for the hot water to enter the bath once it has been heated.”  
Wufan nodded; apparently satisfied that Yixing had finally finished what he had been assigned to do.  
“Thank you Yixing. You may leave us now.”  
Checking once more time that the fires heating the barrel full of water were properly lit, Yixing glanced at the small flames, then at the general, his gaze lingering a little longer than necessary as if trying to guess his intentions. With a final glance and nod at Suho, he left the room and the door closed with a slightly dulled snap.  
  
Wufan walked over to the bed that Yixing had just vacated and sat down. He gestured for Suho to do the same.  
He took slow and somewhat delicate bites from the piece of bread in his hands not quite correct by the way of etiquette but not exactly wrong either. It was quite graceful in his own way.  
Suho took another piece of bread from the bowl, taking care not to touch any other pieces. He broke up small parts of the bread and raised each small piece to his mouth, slowly finishing it, piece by piece. They both ate in silence, Suho focusing his gaze on the food in his hands.  
  
Wufan's eyes were fixed on the smaller male in front of him as if he were studying the way the other ate; as if he found that interesting as well. He finished his piece of bread faster than Suho and made no attempt to take another piece- he had probably eaten before he came, he wasn't restricted to one room and a single bowl of bread. But then again, he wasn't a soldier that had been imprisoned inside an enemy palace.  
  
Instead, Wufan stood and walked towards the bathroom, checking to see if the water had heated enough. Just as Suho placed the last piece of bread into his mouth, Wufan extinguished the flames beneath the water and slowly tipped it into the already quarter filled tub to prevent any from spilling into the polished wooden floor. He also pulled a white towel from a cabinet above the bath.  
  
"Wash yourself; you're still covered in the dust from your travels."  
  
Suho stood, suddenly awkward. He did not know whether he could ask that the other leave the room or at least turn around while he bathed. He knew that Wufan had been kinder to him than expected of him and Suho needed the kindness to continue if he ever wanted to get home. He slipped into the bathing room, conscious of just how small it was and the amount of room that two grown men would take up in it.  
  
"Could you--"  
Suho broke off partway through his request, cheeks flushing a light pink as he tried to stop himself pointing to the doorway of the room.  
  
Wufan looked as if he were trying to hold back his amused laughter at Suho's words and actions and considered for a moment before he replied.  
"We are both men; there should not be any embarrassment in this. I assume that men in your army also shared showers?"  
  
Suho nodded numbly, he wanted to add that although they did share showers, they did not bath in front of each other in pairs inside small wooden rooms. He slowly began to shrug off his outer layers hesitantly with his eyes downcast.  
  
An amused chuckle escaped Wufan's lips as he watched the younger man.  
"I'll look away while you undress if it makes you so uncomfortable. I don't want you drowning yourself if I leave. It would be unfortunate to have a death occur within the imperial residence."  
  
He turned his head slightly to the side so he wouldn't have a clear view but was still aware of the other in case he tried to attack. Suho took the time to overcome his embarrassment to slip out of his clothes and into the warm water, not being able to stop a sigh as the water enveloped him. He hadn't been able to have the luxury of a bath since he left home over a year ago. It was relaxing and not even Wufan's returning gaze seemed to be able to deter his enjoyment.  
  
There was a moment of stillness as their eyes met. Tension hung in the air. "You should wash your face and hair first before the water fills with the dust from your body."  
Colour did not leave Suho's cheeks as he quickly nodded and held his breath, going underneath the surface and combing his fingers through his hair while underneath in an attempt to clean it from the dust that had gathered there. He must have stayed under a bit longer than he should have because he came up, gasping for breath. He felt hands steadying hands on either side of his shoulders and instinctively, he twisted out of the loose grip and scrambled away to the other side of the bath.  
  
It was then he noticed that Wufan was now both sitting on the side of the bath and his clothes were half soaked with water that must have spilt when Suho twisted his body around so violently. Mumbled apologies escaped Suho's lips as he tried to curl up small as possible, both out of shame that he had splashed the other and to cover as much of himself as possible. Wufan suddenly laughed and Suho finally dared to look up. Wufan did not seem angry or annoyed at all, but entertained.  
"Come over here. I used to help bathe my younger brothers when they were younger."  
  
Suho hesitated before slowly moving back to his original place. He wasn't exactly comfortable with the thought of another grown man helping him bathe- he preferred bathing alone even at home, but he was sure just how much choice he had in the matter. He felt slim fingers comb through his hair and rub the skin at the back of his neck.  
  
The hands left his skin for a moment and he let out a breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding in and then felt his head being tilted gently backwards and his hair brushed back out of his forehead. He felt cold water tip over his hair and tried not to squirm until he realized that it was scented. Then he froze, knowing that scented water was expensive and usually only use by either the very rich or the very important.  
  
Feeling hands comb through his hair, he breathed evenly, letting the scent be evenly distributed throughout his too-long hair then washed away with lukewarm water. A soft towel blocked his view of the carved wooden ceiling and a stiffened for a second before he realized that the water was slowly being patted away from his face so none of it would run into his eyes. Wufan obviously had not been lying when he said he used to help his younger brothers bathe. Suho remembered that this was exactly how the younger noble children were bathed in the palace; he remembered it vividly as he himself spent his childhood in the countryside where even a bath was a luxury never mind the scented water that was used.  
  
His eyes still covered, Suho opened his mouth to ask the man next to him a simple question.  
"為甚麼 (why)?"  
His accent was thick but the message came across clear. He felt the hands on the towel stop moving and draw back.  
Wufan had no answer to what Suho had asked and the seconds stretched by, the only sound being that of water dripping down from tips of Suho's hair. After what seemed like hours but in reality could only have been minutes, Suho shifted slightly, freeing his hands to take the towel off his face. He sat up and moved around so that he was kneeling on the floor of the tub, his body pressing against the side.  
  
Looking up straight into the eyes of the man above him who had not made any attempt to move, the silence stretches on for only another few seconds before-  
"謝謝 (thank you)"  
  
Then Wufan leaned down and kissed him softly.

Somewhere between soft kisses and gentle touches, Suho found himself being lifted out of the tub and pressed against Wufan, the water from his body seeping into the other’s clothes and sometime between the fifth kiss and the seventh, Wufan had carefully lowered the smaller man down onto the mattress he had slept on the night before and was trailing kisses down his neck.  
  
Light moans and murmurs of pleasure escaped them as the heat from their bodies pressed against each other and their unclothed limbs tangled together, somewhat awkwardly as the larger ones covered the smaller but somehow, it worked. Insecurities and differences were somehow lost between delighted gasps of pleasure and the heat of skin upon skin, and for a few moments, or perhaps it was a few hours, they lost everything but the other.  
  
Somehow, between deep breaths and a racing heart soon after it was over, Suho fell asleep again and Wufan let out a sigh. The mattress shifted slightly as weight lifted from it and Suho shivered in his sleep as his body felt a slightly wet cloth wipe him clean. But when Suho woke up again, he was alone with a blanket covering him, and only a tray of food waiting for him. He assumed it was the evening meal and he started to eat.  
  
↭

They sent a man called Minseok (or Xiumin as everyone in the palace called him because apparently Minseok was impossible to pronounce for them) to tend to Suho. He came just as the sun was setting to collect the empty tray and replace with another one. Suho asked him how he got came to live in the castle and found out that Minseok came from a small village on the edge of the border and was rescued by some men from the other side after he had been attacked. Of course, that was from before the war broke out and he was taken to the capital and eventually the imperial palace where he taught their language. Suho resisted the temptation to ask if he had taught Wufan.  
  
Sometimes, Wufan would come visit him in his room and they would give pleasure to one another or simply sit facing each other to talk and exchange their thoughts as they used to- It would bend his pride to admit it but Suho always looked forward to Wufan's next visit. Minseok was interesting and caring but there was something about Wufan that Suho could not name, but deeply attracted him.  
  
It was about two weeks after Wufan's first visit; he came again quietly in the middle of the night, slipping in through the wooden door and shaking Suho awake.  
  
"Let's go for a walk. You must be tired of all reading these scrolls and writing these letters, no matter how interesting you claim them to be."  
  
Suho rolled over to face the direction the voice came from sleepily, then his eyes flew open and he sat up as the words sunk in. He hadn't been allowed to leave the room since his arrival, being told by both Wufan and Minseok that it was both too dangerous and would cause too much gossip in court if he were seen, and Wufan was a man who would never allow his reputation to be tarnished.  
  
Suho allowed himself to be pulled up to his feet in shock and led towards the door.  
"Are we- really?" his words refused to form themselves coherently inside his mouth and he spluttered out words, seeking confirmation that he had heard correctly one more time.  
  
"Yes. The imperial gardens are quite beautiful." was the only reply given to him but quiet, almost a whisper but nonetheless firm, "Do not try to escape. You will lose yourself in the grounds and I am armed tonight."  
  
Suho nodded, following silently a step behind the taller man.  
  
The light that shone from the fires from each watch post on the walls surrounding illuminated the sea of golden flowers. They swayed softly in the night air only steps away from where the two men stood and then suddenly, Wufan took a large step forward and plucked a single flower from the mass.  
  
Wufan returned and he offered the golden flower to Suho, bridging the distance between them and pressing the stem against the smaller hand.  
  
"This represents honour. It is a flower highly respected by my people and is known as the imperial flower. It is used to describe men with honour and integrity, those who have inborn courage, by the poets of my nation."  
  
Suho opened his palm and let the flower rest there. He looked at it for a few long moments; the flower was delicate, able to be broken too easily.  
  
"Then there is no other person who should receive it more than you." He murmured softly, whether it was to himself or the other, it was not clear.  
  
Wufan laughed, the sound of his genuine emotions sounding over the silence of the night.  
"I have told you before that you are interesting for one so young. I believe that I finally understand your way of thinking, Joonmyun."  
  
Holding back a wince, he smiled and gazed at the golden ocean, trying to count each and every flower. Taking care not to crush the flower, Suho raised Wufan’s hand so his palm lay flat and placed the flower in the middle, cupping his own hands over it.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
It was almost dawn when Wufan escorted him back to his room. They parted with Wufan brushing his lips lightly against Suho's cheek and saying that he would be busy for the next few days.  
  
It was only after the door had closed and locked that Suho was about to drift off to sleep that he realized that Wufan had sacrificed his sleep for that night.

  
↭  
  
It was weeks after that when the fragile acceptance that Suho had carefully crafted around his surroundings fell apart. It started the day Jongdae started sharing the room with Joonmyun.  
Minseok felt sorry for Suho, or at least that was what he assumed when he brought Jongdae along to visit. Wufan's visits had become sparingly less with a lot more time in between one. According to Minseok, something big had happened on the battlefield and the emperor wasn't too pleased but it was all hearsay for him- even someone who had never fought against them were not allowed to know too much just on the bias of his race.  
  
It was by the looks that Jongdae gave Suho every time they touched upon the subject of Wufan that alerted him to the fact that somehow, something was wrong. He had tried asking both Minseok and Jongdae what was wrong but Jongdae shrugged it off with a "I would have thought you'd feel more hate towards someone who takes you prisoner then uses your body." whilst Minseok always laughed and asked if there was anything that should be wrong. Suho wasn't sure which one was worse- a blatant denial that anything was wrong or an obvious half truth.  
  
Apart from those moments when they touched upon the subject of war, Jongdae was an amiable and pleasant person to talk to. At first, he did not think that their personalities were compatible but they became friends of a sort, talking about their childhood and their homeland, sharing their memories with each other although never quite mentioning the want to go home. Sometimes Minseok would join them for an hour or two when he brought them meals, and sometimes he would be sent to escort Jongdae back to his own rooms ( Suho knew that if Jongdae was sent back, he could expect a visit from Wufan within the next few hours).  
  
The fifth (or possibly sixth) month his captivity came with no changes and he passed the days by the same as he did on his first. The tidbits of news and informations he gleaned from Minseok gave him hope- there were rumors of the war ending. Bits and pieces from around the court that Minseok had picked up on and even the occasional piece that Jongdae had heard around but it was enough to assure him that talk was being done and considerations being made. Wufan did not visit for five and a half weeks and Jongdae, who as good as lived in the room with Suho and still seemed to be keeping secrets, seemed to be worried more and more about something with each passing day.  
  
They were eating an evening meal when three sharp knocks sounded on the door and it was pushed open without waiting for a response from inside. Wufan entered, dressed in the finery and silks of court and Minseok trailed in behind him, head lowered. Jongdae froze, staring up at them and Suho's eyes widened as he twisted around from his seat on the floor. Jongdae stood up and started walking towards Minseok- it was obvious that they were to leave but stopped next to Suho and bent down to whisper in his year.  
  
"I'm sorry and I hope we meet again. Ask him who he really is." he said in their native tongue, his hand cupping the side of Suho's face for only the briefest of moments before straightening up again and leading Minseok out of the room by the arm. Suho looked to Wufan, pondering Jongdae's words to him and Minseok's refusal to look at him. He wondered if they had decided to execute him.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
He said the words softly, his tone respectful. He did not know the reason that Wufan had not come to see him for over a month. He wondered if he had fallen out of favor.  
  
Wufan made no attempt to answer and so Suho stood, being careful not to spill any of the broth that had been prepared for their meal. He took a risk and asked as Jongdae directed- if they were true then they would be the last piece of advice that he ever received from him.  
"Who are you?"  
  
Wufan looked straight at Suho and met his eyes somewhat hesitantly. He opened his mouth as if to speak then closed it again. A few minutes passed in silence. Suho did not ask anything else.  
  
"Seven years ago, tidings of a coming war had started to spread throughout this nation. I was young and I dreamed of travelling to the capital to further my studies when the first wave of recruitment for the army came. I left my home in the countryside early so they would not come back for my younger brothers."  
  
He told the story monotonously, and said each word clearly as if he couldn't bear to stop midway because he wouldn't be able to carry on. As if the complete lack of emotion was to cover up for an overflow of too much emotion.  
  
"I trained for combat in a camp for several years and I met many people, they all somehow became my brothers in all but in blood. We ate, fought and trained daily together and even complained of boredom, that the war should start sooner so we would have something to do. We were foolish. The war started and bodies fell lifeless to the dirt faster than our minds could process."  
  
Suho realized that he had been right about Wufan. A man who had lost so much that he stopped himself feeling to staunch the hurt inside.  
  
"Our brotherhood started to crumble. One by one, the men fell in battle and one by one, we learnt how to stop the pain and how to stop feeling anything . We became numb. Our commandment was almost finished, the ten thousands of men we started training with had been reduced to a mere few thousand and we were redistributed. I was unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate enough to be sent on to the first division of the army without any of my brothers. I fought emotionlessly for a year."  
  
Dread began to creep into Suho as the story began to sink into him and he wanted to beg the other man to stop- he knew what was coming next and he did not know how he would be able to live through it. But his eyes stayed transfixed on the face of the other and his lips betrayed him and his whisper to stop refused to pass through them.  
  
"I entered the battle, thinking that it would be no different from the others, and it was no different until the very end. The battle was almost decided and they were starting to retreat. There was one man on the enemy side, he had fallen back- his friend or what must have been a very close comrade had fallen and he was trying to drag him back."  
  
Suho closed his eyes, breaking the eye contact. He would feel Wufan's eyes still on him, watching his expressions carefully.  
  
"I pushed that man down and drove my sword through him."  
Wufan paused and looked Suho directly in the eyes, defensive yet somehow apologetic.  
“It was the death that won the battle.”  
  
Images flashed through his head of the battle that had just been described to him. It felt wrong and the pieces fell in place. He had all heard it before, but in a different room, a different situation, through a different pair of lips.  
  
He realized why Jongdae and Minseok seemed to pity him whenever he talked of Wufan in a positive light and why the name Wufan had struck a chord in his memory the first time he had heard it. Rumours of the name of the man who had killed his second brother spread fast through the country but nothing had ever been confirmed. His eyes still closed, Suho replied, forcing his voice to remain steady.  
"You killed my brother."  
  
There was a pause before Wufan replied. His tone was defensive, as if he were trying to correct Suho.  
"I killed the second prince of your nation and the man who commanded one of the strongest divisions of the enemy army. I was noticed and made general after that."  
  
"How long have you known about this?"  
  
“The loss of his third son was too much to bear for your father. Talks of peace began just over two months ago. He had agreed to shift the border provided that his citizens who will become our people after the move are treated well and have the freedom to move across the border to visit their people as they wish.”  
  
Suho did not reply and he simply waited for the older man to finish speaking. The explanation was not over yet.  
  
“Somehow, the names of men kept as prisoners of war were exchanged and your name was noticed. Perhaps your father looked over the names personally, hoping that you would be on the list and you were. You were clever to tell us only the name you used in your childhood, none of us would have ever thought you to be a prince.”  
Neither of them made any attempt to close the space between them and they stood in silence.  
“What will happen now?”  
  
Wufan snorted and a trace of bitterness was seen clearly through his mask of indifference.  
“You go home _, Suho_.”  
  
↭  
  
The war was over and he had been left behind. His oldest brother arrived two weeks after the revelation to seal the contract in royal blood and to take Suho home at last. They would be back in the capital in time for the New Year celebrations. The flurry of events that seemed to come one after the other without rest left Suho only half hearted and feeling like he was missing something but he brushed it away with a smile. The peace between their nations was of the utmost importance to him.  
  
After his identity was revealed, Suho only had time to meet Wufan once and formally thank him for the mercy shown along with a reassurance he would be safe from any that may try to avenge the death of their second prince. Spending his little time left forming relationships and exchanging pleasantries with the noble born, Suho had no time to seek Wufan out again before he was whisked back home across the border.

The day he arrived home, he was welcomed back with a private gathering of his family and close friends in a smaller room overlooking the gardens. Orders were given to the guards outside that none were to disturb them until their reunion ended. On the second day after his return, after he had been well rested and outfitted for the latest fashions that he had missed while away, a banquet was held to celebrate his return along with the coming of the New Year. That night, he thanked his father for considering his return worthy enough to be celebrated alongside the largest national event that was celebrated. Suho had been honoured above almost all men in their nation.

After the first two days, everything seemed to fall back into formation again and his daily life as a third prince continued on from where it had been broken off. It was as if he had never left for war, as if he had never been captured, as if he had never let himself into an affair with an enemy general. His eldest brother was also home more often and they spent much time together, bridging together the distance the years put between them and becoming close brothers, truly of the same blood. Two months passed and for every day of it, Suho was content. The only difference now was that he had friends across the border to write to.

The first letter, he addressed it to Jongdae and the second to Minseok. What was supposed to be the third was a single piece paper dotted with ink when words would not come to mind, lying discarded on his bedside table. But even without him asking, Jongdae and Minseok included brief mentions of Wufan in their replies back. They told Suho of how he was and what his daily routine, the festivals he attended and how he trained the men. Suho did not know if he wanted to feel glad that Wufan was well or to show some foolish selfishness into wishing that Wufan would live less well without him. He risked the mention of Wufan’s name in passing in his next letter to Jongdae.  
  
A month later, a reply came. Two letters bound together- he had supposed one was from Jongdae and the other Minseok under he had opened the first one and found that it was from both. One had taken up the top half of the paper and the other had scrawled his message messily along the bottom. Suho slowly broke the unmarked wax sealing the second letter, refusing to let himself hope.

 _Joonmyun,_  
_I go to war in nineteen days. The Southern Border is no longer safe._  
_Jongdae and Minseok are now both free men. They will be going home._  
_Take care of them and yourself._  
  
The letter was not signed but no name was needed. The calligraphy was not in any way beautiful, but it was carefully written with a steady hand.  
  
Suho smiled, he had expected nothing less but nothing more.  
  
He set the letter aside.  



End file.
